


close your eyes before i drown in them

by smokesque



Series: Klance Week 2016 [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Athletes, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Getting Together, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Kinda, Klanceweek2k16, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Swimming AU, This is trash, aren't you proud, blame the olympics for this one, hunk is a cyclist, i regret none of this, idk why, pidge and hunk are also cuban for plot purposes, shiro and hunk are mentioned once or twice, the nonbinary character is pidge in case you hadn't guessed, the rest are swimmers, this is a mess, y'all this isn't even angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokesque/pseuds/smokesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But I’ve been training and today is not your lucky day.”</p><p>A whistle blows. Lance tests the strap of his goggles once more as he steps up to the block.</p><p>“You won’t beat me. I’ve been training too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	close your eyes before i drown in them

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote most of this in my head at swimming training two days ago and it's largely a disaster but here you go. this is for day 4 (free day).
> 
> i actually headcanon lance as a backstroker but for plot purposes i wrote him as a freestyler. i imagine he specialises in both.
> 
> you can read this on my [tumblr](http://ailourophilic.tumblr.com/post/148595750562/have-this-swimming-au-in-honour-of-the-only-week) and find out more about klance week [here](http://klanceweek.tumblr.com/).

Lance is dying – definitely dying. He can feel the oxygen atoms evaporating before they reach his lungs. His muscles scream at him with every drag of his arms through the water and his head spins with the urge to throw up whatever he ate for lunch. (He’s learnt it’s better to just eat what his coach gives him. Knowing only makes it taste worse.) The rest of the team left an hour ago and Lance promised he only wanted to do a quick 300 loosen, just wanted to swim off the lactic acid. But this is his last chance to train before the opening ceremony and there’s no way he’s going to waste it. He’ll never win the sprints – his twitch fibre is too low – but he’ll make up for it in the long distance. If he could just build up his endurance…

Lance stops when a shadow looms over the blocks at one end of the lane and a shoulder hides the time clock from his view. He treads water far enough out from the wall that he can tilt his head back to make eye contact with the figure.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You’ll burn yourself out so stop it. Coach told us to rest up before tomorrow for a reason.” And of course it’s Pidge, ever the voice of reason. Lance has an argument on the tip of his tongue but that’s exactly where it stays when Pidge squirts him with his own water bottle and tells him to roll off a hundred easy. Lance does as he’s told because he knows Pidge won’t leave until they’re satisfied Lance is taking care of himself and he has no intent to waste anyone else’s time.

Lance shoves his training cap and goggles into his net bag as he leaves the locker room, showered and dressed but still smelling heavily of chlorine. He’s sure Pidge doesn’t notice. They’ve probably spent most of their life smelling of chlorine.

Pidge leads Lance to the dining room and orders them both the biggest meal they can find on the menu. They point their knife at Lance when the food is brought out and order Lance to eat. He doesn’t have to be told twice. They eat together and mingle with the other swimmers for a bit, but break away pretty soon to look for Hunk.

The cyclists are out the back of the hotel, spread across wooden benches and tables sharing orange juice they’ve squeezed themselves, but Hunk isn’t with them.

They find him already retired to his room, scribbling in his diary. Lance gives him shit for it, more out of habit than anything, and Hunk rolls his eyes while tucking the book away in the drawer of a bedside table.

“It’s really happening tomorrow.” Lance stretches out on Hunk’s bed as he speaks, fluffing the pillow behind him to lean against. Pidge joins him, sitting up on their knees by his feet.

“Sure is.”

Hunk isn’t looking at either of them, his eyes trained on the window. Rio’s skyline is lit up against the dark canvas of the sky. The city is luminous like nothing Lance has ever seen and he feels strangely at home, despite the Portuguese flung from stranger to stranger everywhere he passes by. He has his best friends and a training pool (it’s big for a training pool, he won’t lie, he’s impressed) and as far as Lance is concerned that is all he needs to feel at home.

“We should compete in the triathlon, you know.”

Hunk heaves a sigh and Pidge’s arms fling wide with exasperation at Lance’s insistence, not for the first time, that the three of them could win the triathlon event.

“I’m just saying. Hunk would cycle obviously, I’d swim and Pidge used to run track. We could pull it together no problem.”

“We know, Lance, you tell us every day,” Pidge groans, letting their arms drop to their sides.

“It takes a lot of training,” Hunk points out (also not for the first time). Lance still thinks they could pull it off. They have four years to train and it’s not like they’d be going in totally blind. He lets the matter drop though and Pidge prods at him until he finally agrees to return to their shared room and leave Hunk to rest.

“No training tomorrow, Lance. I’m serious. Coach will murder you and I’m not covering your ass this time.”

Pidge’s whisper is the last thing Lance hears before the light in their room flickers out. He wants to protest, because he needs to train more than usual if he wants any chance of beating his rival, but the words die in his throat and he slips from consciousness.

-

The opening ceremony is as incredible as Lance expected. He’s almost certain the novelty of being part of something he’s watched on TV for as long as he can remember will never wear off. Pidge’s eyes are alight with the thrill of it all for the whole night. Lance knows this is their first Olympics and he can hardly blame them for their starry-eyed wonder. His first was four years ago and he still buzzes with the adrenaline of it.

They barely speak to each other, comfortable in their awestruck silence. Lance’s eyes flit nervously through the crowds of athletes in search of a mullet he’d know anywhere. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised when he can’t find it. (He thinks he probably does know why he’s upset but he tries not to address that.) It’s a massive crowd after all and he’s hardly likely to be able to pick out a single person. They’re not even close to the Korean party. Lance hisses to himself to stop it.

The aftermath of the ceremony is a messy, excited jumble. Lance loses count of the amount of people he hugs while fighting through the throng. He grabs Pidge’s arm to avoid losing them and elbows out of the crowd and away from all the noise. Pidge still seems slightly dazed but they find their way back to the hotel without much trouble. Pidge hugs Lance before they go to bed and it’s weirdly intimate in a way their friendship has never been.

Lance feels warm inside.

Mullets and freestyle races lace his dreams.

-

Lance is in front of the block at the end of lane four when he finally finds the one person he’s been looking for. His hundred metre freestyle race starts soon and he’s stretching his hamstring when the Korean swimmer walks out to much applause within the stands. Lance growls softly, anger surfacing at the fact that his main rival is the favourite to win.

Keith stops by lane five, stripping his jacket and waving happily to the spectators. He bends to splash water onto his chest and Lance does his best not to stare. (His best is apparently not very good.) Keith nods to him as he moves back towards the chair behind his lane but shows no sign of recognition.

“Hey. Buddy. I wouldn’t be too full of yourself. Today is the day I take you down.” Lance doesn’t speak Korean and he doubts Keith knows much Spanish. He opts for English instead, hoping it will provide some kind of middle ground.

Keith turns to look at him and his gaze is so withering that Lance feels himself shrink under it. It’s obvious enough that Keith doesn’t remember him. In that moment, Lance swears he loses five years of his life. He suddenly feels like the least important person in the building.

“Who are you?” Keith’s English is slightly broken but he speaks it well enough, despite the heavy accent.

“Lance. You know, Lance and Keith?” Cleary, Keith doesn’t. “Lance and Keith, always neck and neck. We’re rivals, you and me.”

“Oh. Cuba.” Keith gestures to Lance’s discarded jacket displaying the red and white Cuban colours. Lance bounces on his toes and swings his arms forward in a butterfly stroke motion.

“Yeah. Cuba and Korea. Lance and Keith. But I’ve been training and today is not your lucky day.”

A whistle blows. Lance tests the strap of his goggles once more as he steps up to the block.

“You won’t beat me. I’ve been training too.” Keith doesn’t look at Lance when he speaks and the second blast of the whistle prevents Lance from answering. He steadies himself on the block, tense and unmoving.

When his fingers break the surface of the pool after his dive, he forces all thoughts of Korean boys with stupid hair out of his mind and focuses on the stretch of his arm and the strength behind his kick.

-

Keith takes home the gold. Lance wants to listen when Pidge tells him it was a good swim but he feels worse than he ever has after a race. Pidge tosses him a towel and stands silently while he rubs furiously at his hair. He was so full of himself, so ready for this to be his competition. He hadn’t even made a qualifying time. And stupid Keith was boasting a gold medal not even a day into the Olympics.

Pidge’s sharp gasp is the first inclination Lance has of another presence in the room and, when he turns to see what’s wrong, he has to resist the urge to bow. Japan’s world champion, Shirogane, is standing in the locker room not three metres from Lance and Pidge. It feels unreal. Shirogane is Lance’s inspiration, his _hero_ , and he’s right there. Shirogane smiles like it’s nothing out of the ordinary and Lance is sure he melts a little bit.

“Why are you staring at Shiro like that?”

Lance hadn’t even noticed Keith’s presence, though the boy is almost directly in front of him. And if Lance wasn’t angry before, he sure as hell is now. Not only has Keith beaten Lance in their first race and won himself another Olympic Gold, but he also knows Shirogane on a nickname basis.

“You- He’s- What?” Lance mumbles intelligently. Pidge snorts and receives a damp towel to the face. Lance’s hair is still dripping slightly but he’s prepared to make sacrifices in order to give Pidge the treatment they deserve.

“Whatever. So, uh, good swim there,” Keith says and Lance scoffs, turning away. Good swim, his ass. Why is Keith being polite anyway?

“Lance,” Pidge hisses, their toe colliding with his ankle. They give him a warning glare. _Play nicely_.

“Oh, yeah. You too.”

Keith nods rigidly, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over Lance’s right shoulder.

“Um, so I was thinking and, well, would you want to get coffee sometime?”

What.

Lance nearly chokes on his own spit and suddenly wishes he had his towel back so he’d have something to hide his face with. Shirogane is smiling proudly as he watches the exchange and Lance wonders if he even speaks English. They catch eye contact with one another and Shirogane smiles a little brighter. The red infusion on Lance’s cheeks deepens.

“Or, I mean, we could just race each other in our down time. Good practice, I guess.”

Keith blinks at the cracked tiles beneath his feet and shuffles awkwardly in place. Lance snaps out of his thoughts long enough to string together a coherent sentence.

“Why not both?”

Lance thinks that’s the first time he’s ever seen Keith smile. It looks good on him. Somehow it seems to fit with his mullet like the two were made to work together. He nods briefly before grabbing Shirogane by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. Shirogane starts talking in fast Japanese but Lance doesn’t hear Keith respond. He’s too busy focusing on the ringing in his ears.

Pidge’s laugh seems to raise the roof as it bangs off the walls. They double over with their arms crossed tightly over their stomach.

“You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe you’re going on a date with your arch enemy.”

And, yeah, Lance can’t really believe it either.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe (very big maybe) i'll turn this into a proper au one day. i have a lot of plans but no motivation to actually write a full length fic. i love to scream though. please come and talk to me about swimming!voltron. i have so much to discuss. hmu on tungle dot com.


End file.
